You Can Go Your Own Way
by shirleypositive72
Summary: She sees him so seldom. At least it wasn't another lonely day. A stand alone one shot with an unnamed OFC.


It's difficult to hold on to him. The sweat slicking his skin makes it hard to pull him closer, to hang on for the ride.

And, damn, what a ride.

The grip of his hands on my hip and in my hair provide the pain, while each thrust of his hips and every snap of skin on skin bring all the pleasure back to the forefront of my mind and senses. My body rocks with his movement and smothers with his weight, and the heat he generates leaves me struggling for air. I gasp, the needed inhale carrying with it the scent of him, all whiskey and sweat and anger and sex, which at the moment is no less necessary than oxygen.

Rougher and harder and tighter and louder, and I feel my grip slipping. Inching closer to the cheap plastic and pleather headboard, I give up trying to control it and just take it, take him, moving my hands up to brace myself and prevent the cliche. Even in the straining moment when he's chasing our release, running it down, he sees it's me who's getting away. Yanking me down the mattress by the chain of the cuffs left behind by some delusional cop only an hour ago, trapping me farther under him, he pulls me back into the hunt for bliss and rises above me, never missing a stroke.

"Not getting away for the second time tonight," he growls over the cheap motel radio, sending shivers everywhere. He hooks the chain around his neck, ensuring I don't go anywhere.

"Not running from you, Dean." My voice comes out in a little girl, Marilyn Monroe whisper.

He likes it.

Crashing back down onto me, pushing harder into me, he takes my mouth like property, licks kisses, bites. He uses me like he bought me, when really I would pay him whatever he asked. We are each other's purpose, cause, and reward.

He knows I'm close by the growing volume of each gasp he coaxes from me; I know he's almost there by the steadily growing power he builds. He grasps the pillow on either side of my head and uses it to absorb the pressure of his closing fists which surely would have pushed me past the pleasurable pain threshold. He roars into the curve of my shoulder and I curl into him, shaking, shouting his name in response.

The cooling sweat drips from his brow, his hairline, forms a sheen on his face. His breath slows from tortured gasps, to dragging pants, to the calm, quiet, even breathing that is his norm. I mimic him, as I do in most things, and we come down together. He doesn't move off of me right away, knowing I love the feeling of being trapped by him, relinquishing entirely the control I have to hold so tightly, guard so jealously, at every other moment of my life. We find ourselves together so rarely, that I crave the feeling.

"Let's get those off you," he says as he sits back on his knees, pulling me up with him before easing my hands from around his neck. He picks the lock with one of the pins he yanked from my hair, and kisses each wrist as he frees them.

"Stupid cop though cuffs would stop me. Grave desecration, my ass. Should have been worrying about the ghosts standing behind him," I huff, trying to put off the moment we both know is coming. I've been denying it from the second I called him for help last night. He rushed to help me finish this job. I enjoyed the time with him. I blocked out the thought of him leaving again.

"Yeah, well, I burned the bones before he had a chance to see. All he was looking at was your fine ass anyway," he smirks. I raise an eyebrow. "Hey, I can look at your ass and still get stuff done. It didn't keep me from doing my job, is all I'm saying," he laughs.

As much as want to tell him to stay, ask him not to go, admit that I need him, confess that I love him, offer him my world, ask him when I'll see him again, all I do is watch him go. He showers, dresses, packs his gear, kisses me once, and leaves. And I watch him do it while sitting in this bed naked, smelling of him. It's all I can do. It's the right thing to do. At least it wasn't another lonely day.


End file.
